Chapter 1
He is fine. They all say he’s fine.
Except for the dehydration and wanting to eat a few thousand cheeseburgers, he settles for an IV and hospital slop for a couple of days for Pepper’s sake, then on the third day manages to communicate his need for a pen and pad of paper and scratches out:
Pep - get me the fuck out of here!
She rolls her eyes at him, but kisses him and leaves the room to get the paperwork started. Perhaps she wonders why it took so long for him to tell her, or maybe she doesn’t, though for some reason she doesn’t push him to talk.
Probably because according to the doctors, he is fine. Though he knows she knows he can’t possibly be fine.
There is nothing physically wrong with him. There have always been more than a few screws loose rattling around in his head, yet they have always found a way through things, mostly because she knew exactly how to push, and he knew when it was time to tell her what he needed.
I’m not ready to talk yet reads the second note that he hands her after he finishes dressing and is ready to go home. Home. Where was home now? Does it even matter? They aren’t questions he can deal with, so he lets her deal with them.
No one has visited him over the two and a half days that he’s been stuck in the hospital. Pepper has spent bits of time telling him what happened in Wakanda, of their losses, of the survivors, that May wants to see him, but he had shaken his head, he wasn’t ready for that non-conversation yet. Though he knows he will have to - eventually. What the - no. He closes his eyes tightly, then opens them again and opens his mouth to speak, closes it again, scribbles out a brief message and flaps it impatiently at Pepper’s face. She rolls her eyes, but takes the paper from him and she starts as she reads the words.
Is Parker in the room with us?
“Of course he is. He’s been home for a week. They found the tracker you had put into the suit, they found him in Afghanistan, luckily he ended up near a village, doesn’t remember how he got there, but - Tony?”
He jots down another note and hands it to her.
Can you give us a minute?
Pepper nods and gives Peter a peculiar look, then leaves the room. Tony looks at Peter and puts the notepad and pen carefully down on the bed, then stands up and takes a step closer to the boy he thought he’d never see again.
“Sir, it’s me, Mr. Stark.”
Tony nods and gently places a shaky hand on his shoulder and closes his eyes, and doesn’t move for a minute and a half then pulls his hand away abruptly, turns back for the pad and pen and writes out:
I can’t talk. Oddly enough, it doesn’t bother me, you’d think it would, as much as I like to talk, but it doesn’t. Don’t know why, don’t care.
He hands the note to Peter and watches him read it. He has so many questions he wants to ask, no, there are so many questions he should want to ask, but he finds none of them matter to him at all at the moment.
“Can I come by the house and visit soon? Maybe you can help with my homework?”
Tony eyes pop open and if he could have laughed, he would have, for the first time since he’s been home. Instead he manages a grin as he shakily pens another note and tosses it to Peter:
Sure, kid - guess I can’t call you that anymore. Is Peter okay? But only if you call me Tony. Mr. Stark is way too formal, and forget about Sir.
Peter tries to smile back at him, but whispers out a tumble of words, and Tony hears the scared seventeen year old kid in his voice, “I haven’t been able to tell them, any of them, what happened up there. To me, to the others - I don’t understand why I’m here. Do you think we will ever know? I’m sorry. I tried to stay. I did -”
Tony nods, and scribbles quickly on the pad. “I should want to know, but honestly Peter, I’m just too tired to care, and I’m still not sure if you’re really standing there or not.”
“Can I give you a hug, uhm, Tony? Sorry, it’s going to take me a while to get used to -” His breath is knocked from his lungs as Tony wraps his arms around him and holds on tight for a slow ten count, takes a slow, deep breath, lets it go, then releases his grip on Peter, picks up the paper and pen he had dropped, and rolls his eyes as he finally feels the tears come.
“I’m sorry, Peter, I should have been able to stop it. You should never have been there. And yeah, you can come over and do homework anytime you want.”